The Girl with the Bible

Preface Sitting here wondering what should I say? What is the book about? Why should you even read this book? My mind is all over the place until I quiet my mind, my surrounding, and my heart and allow God to speak...This book is about a little girl who spent her life searching for something that was there all the time, love! Looking at others and comparing my life to what they had. While my life was not angelic, it was covered. As I look back and reflect on the past so many things come to mind, but if I had one thing to say to anyone, it would be...No matter how far down you have gone, there is a HAND to pick you up...Journey with me to visit the girl with the Bible. God never gives up on us, even if we, at times in our lives, give up on ourselves. Author’s Note: It was my pleasure to be a part of this book and the story of Evelyn. I am forever grateful to God for bringing her into my life. I have never known anyone like her. I could not associate the woman I know now with the woman that she was for most of her life. I understood the vulnerability of her, but not the recklessness that it took to live the life of a street wise junkie. I cannot visualize her as that thin woman out there scavenging for a fix. But, I can see her as the Woman of God that helps anyone that comes to her. I can see her as the minister that has compassion in her heart for everyone. I continue to marvel at her strength of character and her resilience. Even in the face of disappointments and obstructions, she maintains her calm countenance and love for all people. I look at her work in the community to give back and make a difference. I marvel at her praise and worship in the liturgical dance team. I look at her selfless work for the projects inside the church. I know why she does it. But, it seems as if nothing bad has ever happened to her. It is the very embodiment of the miracles of Christ. There is no way that this mighty woman of God should be doing the work that she is doing today. It is too fast. To put it into perspective, less than 10 years ago, she was the hulled out addict on the street that you were trying to avoid eye contact. You looked at her and looked away, hoping that she would not ask you for anything. She would not have asked. She would have taken it from you. She was not a panhandler. She was a survivor. In The Beginning... Genesis 1:1 Where do I begin? I cannot even remember my birth mother, clearly. I met her for the first time when I was 24. She was sentenced to prison when I was 4 years old. I do not remember her or my situation in Maryland before going to Momma in Texas. Momma came to Maryland, as the closest relative to my birth mom and picked me up in 1968. It was nothing that I recall, it was what I was told. My earliest memories are of my PawPaw. He was great. He was kind-hearted, generous, and he loved me, as I loved him. He was warm and knew how to spoil a child. There was a park that was down the street from the house. He would take me to play and swing. He would give me Cheese Nips to eat. I loved them. This was a happy time. My PawPaw was a veteran. He had retired from the military. He had married Momma and they had left East Texas and started their life together. They had one son, who died. I do not know the situation, but I do know that Momma never talked about him or the situation. I never got the chance to ask PawPaw, because he died soon after a short illness, quite suddenly. My life changed after his death. Momma was more intolerant. She became a controlling tyrant, who must have things her way or not at all. She may have been like that anyway, but my PawPaw always deflected her. I remember he would say “leave that girl alone!” But, that did not penetrate that Momma was doing something wrong to me. I say Momma, but she was more of the age of a grandmother. She had adopted me, but she was familiar with my birth Mom. She had adopted another child from her, my brother. I always called him ‘Brother’ and he called me by my first name, Prisca. He was the only one to do it and later, he was the only one I allowed to do it. He was 3 years older than me and he protected me. He was my protector, after my PawPaw died. It was he and I against the world. We were a team. I will never forget my Momma telling us that “you gonna be just like your Momma. She wasn’t no good and you are gonna be just like her!” It was always a continual theme for her and it became an embarrassment for us. We wanted to know her, the birth mother, in spite of everything. We just felt alone in a cold world, just trying to survive. Now, Momma was good about feeding us and clothing us and taking us to church. The problem was that we were children and she was old school. It was the end of the 60’s and the beginning of the 70’s in Dallas, TX. That is South Dallas. Our neighborhood was an older neighborhood with a lot of older people living on our street. The neighborhood was quiet, but the neighborhood consisted of a lot of poor families. Money was not plentiful.